


It's For a Case

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Series: It's For a Case [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, Red Pants, Red Pants Monday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock must both dress as women to infiltrate a club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's For a Case

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely related to my fic [A Smudge of Red Lipstick](http://archiveofourown.org/works/939408), which also has Sherlock as Sheryl.

“This is utterly ridiculous,” said John, staring at himself in the mirror. The lacy red panties cupped his arse as the high cut accentuated his hips.

“It’s for a case,” called Sherlock from the next room. With a sigh John picked up the matching red bra and got it on. He tugged the dress over his head and went back to the mirror, uncertain as he settled the blonde wig on his head. At least the wig had a short, if feminine, haircut. It was very strange, looking at himself in the mirror and seeing this.

Sherlock came elegantly into the room as if he wore heels every day, makeup case in his hand. “Sit on the bed,” he told John.

John sat down, smoothing the dress nervously as Sherlock opened the case. He closed his eyes as Sherlock worked, feeling the makeup applied with all of his usual care and grace. “I’m done,” he said with Sheryl’s voice. John opened his eyes and blinked as he looked into the mirror. Well, not the most attractive woman in the world, but if the club was dark he’d be okay. There was the rustle of paper as Sheryl opened a shoebox and pulled out a pair of ludicrous red heels. She slipped them onto John’s feet. “There you go, Joanne.”

Joanne. John let the name roll around his mind and taste it on his tongue. Too strange, really, but if that’s what she wanted to call him, he’d go with it. Sheryl helped him to his feet and over to the mirror for the full effect. She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Lovely. Let’s go.”

They caught a cab and were soon deposited outside an old building. Music thumped from somewhere beneath their feet. John followed Sheryl down the stairs and watched as money quietly exchanged hands. They walked into the club. It was noisy and crowded and loud, setting John immediately on edge. He moved to one side, standing awkwardly while Sheryl went to fetch them drinks.

A short, heavyset woman came up to John. “Care for a dance?”

John’s heart thumped faster than the music. But her face was warm and open and she offered a hand. He licked his lips and swallowed. “Okay.” He followed her out onto to the dance floor, minding his steps and hoping he wasn’t making a horrific fool of himself. He tried to relax and let the woman take the lead. She smiled encouragingly at him.

After a few minutes Sheryl appeared with drinks, smile quirking on her face. The woman he was dancing with got a knowing smile and excused herself. John took the drink and sipped it as Sheryl stepped closer. “When you finish your drink, our target prefers blonds.”

Now his heart beat faster from danger, though that was mixed with something else as Sheryl moved closer to him and whispered information and instructions in his ear. He wished he had the comfort of his gun, but he nodded and finished his drink. “Go on, Joanne,” said Sheryl.

 _Joanne_ , he reminded himself. Taking a breath he tried to move more like a woman. As he climbed the stairs he was aware the red lace panties were dragging against his cock, making him sensitive. He reached the balcony and took a breath. There were fewer people up here. He made his way over and leaned on the rail. A moment later there was a hand on his hip. “You’re new here.”

Turning, John was surprised to find himself looking up into a man’s face. All he’d seen downstairs were women or dressed that way. The man was looking John up and down with naked desire that made him very uncomfortable, especially as he crowded him against the rail.

John put a hand on his chest to push him away, hoping like hell Sherlock would hurry up already. “No,” he said firmly.

“Come on,” the man leered. “Don’t you know who I am?”

John threw his head forward, hearing the crunch of cartilage. The man cursed loudly, grabbing his nose and stumbling back. John headed for the stairs, but was grabbed by a body guard, arms pinned behind his back as he wobbled in the heels. Getting his bearing back, the man stalked to John and punched him. He tasted blood as his lip split.

Suddenly the body guard dropped to the floor. John stumbled to the side, nearly twisting an ankle as he heard the gun cock. Getting his balance back he knew without looking that Sherlock was holding a gun on the man. He glared at the pair, blood running down his face.

“Come along, Joanne,” said Sheryl evenly.

John nodded. “Best get that nose looked at,” he looked at the man with a cold glare, “it’s broken.”

Sherly was already halfway down the stairs. John managed to get down without breaking an ankle. Sheryl quickly ushered him into a cab before turning and examining his head. “If there’s blood it’s not mine,” said John calmly, heart starting to slow now that they were heading home.

Still, Sheryl took his hand and held it the rest of the way back to the flat. John got out of the cab and led the way upstairs. He turned and faced her once they were alone and pulled her down for a kiss. “I’m fine.”

Noticing some blood on the black dress, John pulled it over his head. There was the intake of breath as Sheryl looked him over. John felt utterly ridiculous standing in their living room in the lacy red bra and panties and the red high heels. But apparently at least one person liked it. He smiled a bit. “That guy was an arse. You however, can look and touch all you want.”

Sheryl stepped closer, wrapping cool hands around his torso. John suddenly started laughing, resting his head against Sheryl’s shoulder. “No, no, this is ridiculous.” He stepped carefully out of the heels, finding himself much shorter than he was used to.

Sheryl undid the bra, leaning down and mouthing his neck. “I hope you keep the panties on.”

“Not all night,” growled John, nipping playfully just under her rib cage. “Come on to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note about pronouns. John is John because he doesn't see himself as anything else. Sherlock is Sheryl because she's fully inhabiting the character.
> 
> There is now [art ](http://willietheplaidjacket.tumblr.com/post/62725036785/i-got-inspired-by-merindabs-fic-its-for-a-case)for this, by willietheplaidjacket, who I love forever.
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
